


The Embers Are New

by zarduhasselfrau



Series: Camp Knowhere [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Gen, Rating is just for swearing bc Rocket is Rocket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 14:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15932096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarduhasselfrau/pseuds/zarduhasselfrau
Summary: It’s hard for most people to feel truly powerful. It’s harder for a bunch of pre-teens who have seen the worst of the world too young. But for one brief yet timeless moment, Rocket and his friends get there.Or: How a bunch of humans got the name 'Guardians Of The Galaxy'.





	The Embers Are New

The camp is silent. Only cicadas break the hush of sleep. (Or is it a hush of anticipation, a quiet before a storm?) Bugs rest peacefully on the wooden paths that are usually too busy to cross, and snails slowly crawl out from their hiding spots into the moonlight. Even the trees, cicadas aside, are quiet because there isn’t a summer breeze gently rolling over the camp for once. Everyone is practically comatose because they’re good little kids who know tomorrow they must pack and endure the bus journey home. 

Rocket is not a “good little kid”. He’s been called a “fucking kid” and “asshole kid” and “goddamn little shit” and “good for nothing waste of fucking money” but not a good little kid. Never. So, neither he nor anybody else should be surprised that he’s laying beside Peter Quill in a clearing that is one hundred percent off the camp map instead of sleeping.

He is surprised though. On the first day, when the five of them had to be dragged off each other by camp counsellors, Rocket swore he’d never talk to these people again. Maybe he’d call them assholes once or twice, or growl at them when they looked at him and Groot, but he didn’t plan to talk to them. Camp Knowhere had other plans, and now here they are: the closest friends Rocket has ever had. (And the first time they met, they punched each other. Typical.) 

Quill is rambling about how awesome their victory was and “Did you see Yondu’s face when you waved that purple flag in it? Did you SEE his face though Gamora?”. The rest of Team Milano are splayed out too, all of them in one big circle with their bags piled in the middle. They’re all silent. Maybe they’re thinking about tomorrow. About home. Maybe, Rocket considers, they’re just enjoying Quill’s stories and he’s projecting his own fears onto their silence.

God he hates that. _That_. The way these people bring out some sort of self-awareness in him. He doesn’t want to think about his life, all the people who don’t want him. He wants to act not think.

“This is a nice place Peter,” Gamora interrupts Quill very softly. It’s not beautiful, not really. It’s mostly an empty space. What’s impressive is how quiet it is. The clearing is stiller than Rocket can go when he’s hiding from somebody. The silence ought to be savoured, not questioned. The only sign anybody’s even been here is an old campfire circle almost overgrown with weeds now. The trees completely conceal it from sight, none of them even saw it coming until they made it to the treeline. It’s like the trees block out noise and sight leaving this one spot isolated, untouched… safe.

“How did you find it?” Drax asks, tilting his head at awkward angles to look around the clearing instead of up at the stars. He looks ridiculous and Rocket can’t understand the rush of emotion in his chest.

“In the old, old, old days when mom was a camper she had this place marked on her map.” Peter reaches behind his head for his bag, almost hitting Gamora and Groot in the face in the process. “Sorry, sorry guys,” He mutters before yanking something old and faded from the bag with a triumphant cry. This time he does hit Groot in the face and Groot gives his hand a very light slap. “See?” Peter hesitates for a minute, clutches the map to his chest despite his words. But then it’s like a switch turns in his brain and he abruptly hands it over to Gamora. The map gets passed around the circle like it’s show and tell. “This used to be where they had the campfire time.” This faded, slightly yellow map agrees with him. Rocket can feel its age between his fingers as he rubs the material, and quickly stops before it crumbles in his hands. The map is covered in handwriting that Rocket assumes belongs to Peter’s mom, all sorts of locations are marked on it.

“You mean the sing-alongs and shit?” Rocket asks, and he feels Gamora tilt her head back just like Drax to glare at the top of his head. “How come they never tell ghost stories anymore.”

“I dunno.” Peter’s shoulder nudges Rocket’s as he shrugs. “Mom said they used to.” His hand slaps the ground petulantly “In fact she promised they did to get me to come.” They all snort at that, giggling like normal, happy kids.

“Hey wait a minute.” Rocket sits up, waving the map at Peter who reaches out reflexively like he thinks Rocket is about to rip it. “This thing has the blocked off mine you showed us on it, the secret shortcut along the rocky trail… Star Munch did your mom find all of these?” He hands the map back but only because Peter looks almost desperate.

“First, don’t call me that. Second… yeah,” Peter admits as he’s putting the map back into his bag. “Mom is adventurous and stuff, I’m just following in her footsteps.” 

“She must be proud of you”, Gamora says, and Rocket’s sure she means to sound encouraging and positive because Gamora cares a lot about Star Boy, but that’s not how it comes out. It comes out biting, snapping its teeth and looking for blood to satisfy the bitterness of someone denied what ought to be a basic feature of childhood. The worst part is, he feels a similar resentment bubbling in his own stomach for a second. Peter cringes slightly as he slowly lowers himself onto his back, but Peter’s mom will be waiting to hug him tomorrow so- “I’m sorry,” Gamora finally says after the few seconds of tense silence. It lets the air bubbles out of Rocket’s stomach. Peter’s got family problems too. They all do. And being grumpy with each other about who has it worse doesn’t help them or hurt the people that did this to them.

That’s what they’ve learned at camp. It’s heavy stuff for a couple of loser kids.

“Hey,” Peter says after a few seconds. “Look up guys.”

“Where else would I be looking?” Drax asks.

“No, I mean really look up.” Between Groot and Gamora, Drax raises his head off the ground. “No Drax I mean-” Peter’s hand waves in the air in the peripheral of Rocket’s vision for a second. “I mean pay attention to what you’re looking at.”

“Quill what are we looking for?” Rocket asks, already exasperated.

“Just be quiet for a minute and look you a-holes,” Peter stresses

Rocket rolls his eyes but focuses on the night sky above them just to make Quill shut up. He’s expecting to look for a few seconds then make a sarcastic comment, sending the team into more laughter. That’s not what happens at all. 

You can’t really see the night sky from the city, not in all its full glory like this. Light pollution or something one of Groot’s books had said. It’s just coal, smoking slightly from the burning heat of the city lights, clinging to the rooftops and the horizon like some sort of intruding presence. It gets in people’s way, it halts the work, it allows people like Rocket and Groot to creep among the people who by day reject them. Rocket feels like he should owe a debt to the night but he mistrusts it just as much as a rich man with a new watch in an alley does. That inky blackness brings in the quiet, the quiet that chokes you with your own thoughts. There’s less people around and the only way Rocket can get by is by watching other people from the window and mocking their lives inside his head.

This night is different. It isn’t really of course, Rocket is a genius for reasons he’s not all that proud of and he knows this is the same night as there is back home. But there are stars, not faint little idiots vainly trying to be seen through the smoky coal but stars. They’re brighter than some of the lights back home- obviously they are Rocket you idiot they’re stars, he curses himself. There’s so many of them and - being a cliché city boy - he tries in vain at first to count; driven by some egoistical need to prove it can be done. By 30 he gives up, because even he’s starting to forget which ones he already counted. It’s just… overwhelming. Instead of the sky intruding on the people it feels like they’re voyeurs gazing upon the galaxy. The scale of what they’re seeing is awe-inspiring, a little terrifying and yet somehow… also simply inspiring. They’re so small and something that big doesn’t care how many mistakes they’ve made, or how hard the story of their past is to tell. It doesn’t care that Rocket is a screw up. The night sky was here before any of them were born and it will be here – different, but here - after. There is time to heal, time to get better.

“Mom and I lay outside for hours looking at the stars in summer,” Peter says, and Rocket almost jumps because he didn’t even notice they had all gone silent. How long have they been staring up at the sky? “It’s the one thing I’ve missed the most at camp,” He admits quietly. Rocket admires this one star that looks like it’s sitting on a tree when you look at it from the right angle while Peter pauses. “I’m glad I found some people to share it with, even if it is the last night.”

“It’s amazing,” Gamora says on an exhale. Rocket restrains himself from nodding and clings to his indifference towards emotions and Moments. “All the time we’ve been here I don’t think I’ve really looked at the stars for more than a second.”

“Do you just sit here and stare?” Drax asks bluntly. Rocket snorts and he feels Peter’s shoulder shift again as he sighs quietly.

“No Drax. We talk about random stuff, we make pictures in the sky. Like constellations but, y’know, not boring,” Peter declares proudly.

“Constellations are not boring,” Gamora replies and Rocket can almost imagine the stink-eye she’s giving Peter.

“But they’re like rules,” Peter whines. “Rules for looking at the sky people made up ages and ages and ages and ages ago. Rules suck.”

“They do,” Rocket agrees before he can catch himself.

“Rules are stupid,” Drax pipes up.

“I am Groot.” The only thing Groot has ever been willing to say out loud. Without blinking, Rocket rolls over onto his side for a minute to translate as Groot signs.

“Groot says rules are what makes you an outsider.” Groot nods firmly.

“Motion carried, rules suck!” Peter hits the ground with all his near non-existent might. He flashes Rocket a grin. “I saw someone say ‘motion carried’ in a movie once. That means it’s law now. Rules suck forever, and we have to ignore them.”

“But isn’t a law a rule?” Gamora questions. There’s a beat of silence where Peter frowns up at the sky very deep in thought.

“Motion un-carried. Let’s just look at the stars.”

That’s exactly what they do. 

Rocket’s not sure how long it goes on for. The five of them talking absolute nonsense, admiring the stars, pointing out shapes they think they can see and then making fun of each other because ‘that looks nothing like a lion you IDIOT’. For a few blessed minutes, maybe it’s even an hour, they just lay there and think about nothing but stars. There are no rules, no other people, nothing to be afraid of. It’s just the five of them, the silent woods, and the sky. The sky that doesn’t care about their troubles and their mistakes, that listens when they say some part of it ought to be something and shifts to become that. A mess of chaotic stars becomes a car when Gamora points it out, a radio when Peter makes them squint, a burger when Drax points up. It’s like they control the sky, or maybe the galaxy. They shape it into any form. They are powerful, unstoppable, glorious. 

The others laugh when Rocket voices this thought, but they all trail off as they consider it.

“You know what I’d do if I was really that powerful?” Gamora asks. They all look at her expectantly, Groot turning over onto his stomach. “I’d protect everyone, so nobody would have to cry. Nobody would have to lock themselves up in a room and wait for someone to leave them alone or go to work.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Me too,” Drax agrees quietly. Groot nods and puts his hand on Rocket’s hair when Rocket also nods. 

“Me five,” Peter adds after seeing Rocket and Groot nod. “I’d guard the galaxy from bad guys. Nobody would ever make my mom cry again or ignore me or call us names,” He sits up and, leaning on one hand, sighs and looks around the assembled circle of misfits. For a moment they’re all quietly resigned to the reality of their situation. They’re not really reshaping the stars, they’re a bunch of powerless kids. Then, Peter finishes looking around the circle. Something changes.

Peter's eyes light up and he’s moving. No longer laying on his back, he practically leaps up onto his feet so he’s towering over the other four. Almost automatically, the rest of them sit up and look to see what Peter’s going to do next. He’s become something of the metaphorical fire starter. The spark that has led to all their best adventures so far at camp. Whatever he’s about to say, they want to hear it. 

“I want you guys to do it with me!” He declares. The four of them look at each other for a moment, silently assessing the idea between them. Their eyes flit from face to face cautiously, and then they turn back to Peter as if they had somehow come to a unanimous agreement on something. Rocket’s not sure how they’re so good at this.

“Do what?” Gamora asks cautiously. Rocket folds his arms, Groot and Drax lean back and look Peter up and down critically.

“Protect the galaxy!” Peter enthuses, doing a little jump for emphasis. Gamora immediately looks at Rocket. She looks skeptical. Rocket rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and looks back at Groot and Drax. They seem… neutral. 

“Peter, we’re not even old enough to drive,” Gamora points out. “What do we do, stowaway on a spaceship?” 

“It’s- I mean like, symbolically!” Peter splutters, still bouncing every now and then with sheer excitement. “If we see someone who needs help, we help ‘em. If we see someone who’s hurting people we stop them. We protect people like we wish people had protected us.”

Gamora looks at Rocket one last time. Her face is entirely neutral except for a raised eyebrow. Rocket can’t help the way he’s already leaning forward, interested and excited. Groot shuffles forward, putting most of his weight onto Rocket’s shoulders as he leans over Rocket’s head to nod enthusiastically at Peter. Drax also shuffles forward and Gamora’s neutral face gives way to a smile she was clearly fighting to hold back. By now Peter is practically hopping on the spot.

“We need a cool superhero team name though!” Peter says, flopping down again in front of the four of them. He’s tearing up handfuls of grass as they all think, occasionally dropping some in somebody’s lap. (Gamora seems to be his favourite target but Drax is so deep in thought he doesn’t even notice the grass pile amassing on his knees.) Four of them are in unspoken agreement that Peter, who picked 'Team Milano' for their camp team name, is _not_ allowed to choose the name. But they don't need to tell him that.

“The Protectors?” Drax offers. Everybody groans and shakes their heads.

“No,” Gamora says and that’s the end of it.

“Earth Defense Squad?” Rocket translates for Groot again. The other three make a face, Drax is still pouting over his idea being shot down though so it’s hard to tell.

“It’s alright but it’s sorta… limited,” Peter says and Groot goes right back to thinking. 

"Universal Guardians?" Gamora tries. 

"I'm not protecting Universal's copyright," Rocket mutters. Gamora sighs and mutters something about him being impossible. 

“Peter and the Petes?” Rocket throws a handful of grass straight at Peter’s face. “Hey!” Peter splutters, practically clawing at his face to keep the grass out of his mouth. “It was my idea.” Rocket throws dirt at him this time but Peter’s waiting for him and pushes him onto his back, holding an even bigger handful of dirt above his head. Groot grabs Peter’s hand and holds it back. Drax grabs _Groot’s_ hand and tries to pull him off, sending the grass pile Peter had created on his knees flying everywhere as he lurches forward.

“It _was_ Peter’s idea,” Gamora says calmly, even though she’s watching them wrestle. 

“Ha! See! I get t- AH!” He yelps as Gamora kicks him in the side and sends him sprawling onto the grass on Rocket’s right. Groot falls with him and ends up slumped over Rocket’s stomach, but Drax at least has the good sense to let go and shuffle back to sit with Gamora.

“I wasn’t finished,” Gamora says bluntly. “I was going to say, it was your idea so we should listen to what you said.” Everyone looks at her blankly. “He said he would ‘guard the galaxy’ remember? Why not that? Guardians of The Galaxy.” There’s a beat of silence. It should be a meaningful silence, heavy with the weight of five people realising their calling and purpose in life, and a joint destiny they could never have anticipated. 

It isn’t, because they're jerks.

“That sounds dumb,” Rocket complains and Gamora's face falls. Peter starts laughing beside him. “Oh look out for ‘the guardians of the galaxy’ definitely don’t steal their lunch money!” Groot is laughing quietly but Rocket can feel him shaking on his stomach, and Drax is doing that full-body guffaw of his.

"You're _such_ an a-hole," Gamora snaps, throwing Peter's bag halfheartedly at Rocket. 

“It sounds like a cheesy sixties superhero tv show! ‘Guardians of The Galaxy’ yeah sure, sure, why not?!” Rocket means it as a joke. They use it as a joke, initially. It teases Gamora and mocks their own lack of creativity all at once.

Eventually, like all good inside jokes, ‘Guardians of The Galaxy’ actually starts to mean something to them all. They stop saying it with a laugh and start saying it with affection. Other people actually start to call them that. There will come a day when The Guardians of The Galaxy will have overcome their problems, thanks to each other, and started to help other people overcome _their_ problems. One day even Gamora's sister will call herself a Guardian of The Galaxy (albeit with a roll of her eyes). One day they will be seven strong, powerful young adults.

Right now though they're just five loser kids laughing at themselves and to be just that, to forget their baggage for a while, is enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> okay I just wanted to get this out because it's been judging me from my documents folder.


End file.
